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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952843">We’re getting out of here. By COD, we’re making our way out of here.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranegame/pseuds/Cranegame'>Cranegame</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Splatoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Agent 24 eventually, Cannon Divergence, Gen, Iso Padre deserves better, Nonbinary agent 3 (He/They), Octo Expansion DLC, Other, Tags to update as I go!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:00:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranegame/pseuds/Cranegame</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>10008 has been at this test subject thing for a while now, and honestly? She’s doing great at it! That is, until two inklings show up and everything goes sideways.</p><p>An exploration of what could’ve been, based on concept art from the Haikara Walker Artbook.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agent 3 &amp; Agent 8 (Splatoon), Agent 3/Agent 8 (Splatoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We’re getting out of here. By COD, we’re making our way out of here.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is my first fic that I’ve ever published in some form. Things might be pretty rough or slow starting out, but should pick up with time!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hearts racing and muscles screaming from overexertion, 10008 had no choice but to push on as a timer ticked down on what could very well just be the last seconds of her short and ultimately pointless life. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place: on one end an endless fall into a dark blue abyss, and the other a lineup of sanitized octolings, weapons at the ready. She had avoided them thus far- being clever about what paths she had taken and when, but turns out it was ultimately pointless when they could just superjump right to the last datapoint she needed!</p><p>Difficult? Without a question. Unfair? Absolutely. However, like everything else in the metro, it at least shouldn’t be complicated. The datapoint was directly ahead of her, with three octolings standing between her and it. She had no weapon or cover, and the stage dropped off on all sides around her. It was clear she had only one option: keep moving. She would simply have to outmaneuver them.</p><p>Kicking off with a start, the subject broke into a full body sprint in an attempt to get ahead. It didn’t give her much, evidenced by the immediate sensation of ink coating her arm as one octoling had immediately started firing. The other two were slightly less to worry about, one equipped with a roller and the other with a slosher, both easy to get out of range of. Essentially, she just had to worry about the octoshot. The ink slowed her down some, but not much, and she was still able to briefly duck to avoid fire, passing the octoling. With seconds left on the clock and her opponents hot on her heels in an attempt to get back in range, time blurred together and her thoughts muddled. 10008 remembers dodging to the left, then right, then having to duck into a roll when her legs gave out, essentially collapsing into the datapoint with milliseconds left on the clock. Then, as soon as it had all started, it stopped.</p><p>She had passed.</p><p>Everything froze around her, including the octolings, as a dingy but familiar chime seemed to fill the air. It was both an instant relief and a hit of pure dopamine as far as 10008 was concerned, passing trials would genuinely never get old. Standing up, a launchpad spawned beneath her that sent her back to the station.</p><p>Landing roughly and taking a few seconds to steady herself, 10008 collected the provided mem cake at the turnstile. She never really got the appeal of the things, but she’d take any reward given to her. What mattered to her more was that she was now a substantial number of CQ points richer, and another test was checked off a seemingly endless list. She’d be out of here and living it up on the surface in no time.</p><p>Stepping out of the turnstile, directly ahead of her the train stood with automatic doors already open- exactly on time, just as always. Boarding back on the train after a test was always a reward within itself, and 10008 sometimes wondered if she had been getting back on the same train at all. The graffiti always seemed to look the same, but the other passengers were constantly changing out, oftentimes a rotating cast of colorful denizens of the deep. Regardless if it was or wasn’t the same train, it provided her with the break between trials she desperately needed in order to keep going.</p><p>Pocketing the spoils of her passed test, 10008 stepped inside the train. It was more of a struggle than usual to get in, as she had to push through a dense crowd of jellies that were not only standing about aimlessly near the exits, but also packing most of the seats. Other than the obvious, things seemed mostly par for the course as far as the metro was concerned; The same giant isopod sat in the corner as always, a hatchetfish and a gulper eel loudly bickered about something pointless to her left, and a dogfish dressed for a day at the office snored from the very back of the car. Generally, it’s what was to be expected of early mornings on the metro.</p><p>What 10008 didn’t expect to see, however, were two inklings: an incredibly old one and one with the most devastating bangs she had ever seen.</p><p>The elder looked just about ready to keel over if he didn’t wither up first, and he was making no attempt to hide the fact that he was basically staring knives at her. His companion with the tragic tentacles was at least slightly better; minding their own business. They towered over their rattling companion, lanky and awkwardly folded up to fit the seat, completely absorbed in some sort of handheld device and looking like they were honestly trying their best to disappear altogether. The two of them certainty weren’t denizens, but 10008 seriously doubted that they were both applicants. Tall-and-poorly-dressed? Maybe. But gramps? No chance that guy could even enter a station without assistance.</p><p>Ignoring the stare thrown her way was easy, but finding a seat was harder. 10008 had two choices thanks to the swarm of jellies: sit by the inklings and risk getting clobbered to death by an old man (bad idea), or try to throw herself at the mercy of the isopod and see if he’d move his stuff (questionably bad idea). It’s not like she had talked to the denizen before- he looked like the type who knew a lot of people, and people who knew a lot of people weren’t trustworthy. Though, upon further consideration he didn’t seem actively malicious, which is something that 10008 couldn’t guarantee to be the same for the inklings. It was an idea growing more and more favorable by the second.</p><p>She approached carefully and did her best to present an air of polite confidence to mask the rising sensation of morbid terror prickling against her skin. This guy was even bigger up close, and she wondered how fast he could move.</p><p>“Excuse me, if it’s possible, could I take this seat?”</p><p>The denizen looked down at her, whiskers twitching as he unfolded one of six arms to adjust his glasses. He was utterly unreadable. Slowly though, he nodded, and gathered his odd briefcase bursting with what looked to be soft toys. He placed it down by his shoes, in front of him, and gestured to the now open seat. “Some battles aren’t worth fighting, but some are just worth preparing for first. The line between the two is fine, but you’ll get to the point eventually where you’ll easily know the difference.” He advised, in a voice that took 10008 by surprise just for how calming it was. She didn’t know what he meant, but it was as good as an invitation could get down here.</p><p>She sat down, quietly folding her hands in her lap. Success, for now. There was no telling how long it would be before she ended up at her next trial, though. Might as well try to at least kill some time, right? Emboldened a little by her success at scoring a seat, 10008 continued to talk to the isopod. “Thanks... sir. I’ve seen you on the car this whole time, but never asked- what's your name?”</p><p>He hummed in consideration before responding. “Iso Padre. It’s as close to a name as I know, I’ve been riding so long that I forgot my true name. Though, I suppose anything becomes true with time.” He clicked his claws together in thought, looking down at 1008. “And you? Is your fate the same?”</p><p>“Sort of.. I guess? I don’t know my name. All I know is that I am test subject 10008.” She nodded slowly, the number feeling weird to say out loud. She hadn’t really thought of the string of numbers as a name until now, having no real use for one. It made her feel sort of hollow, like there was an aching void in her hearts where a solid identity was supposed to live.</p><p>“Another subject, hmm. I should’ve guessed with your frequent comings and goings, but you’d been surviving for so long that it was hard to tell.” He responded gently. As the train started to move out of the station, the light changed from cold blue to a warm green, leaking in from graffiti-coated windows. It was nearly as bright and lively as the dense kelp forest whizzing past outside. “I had been a subject, once, but quickly learned it wasn’t wise for me to continue. Two stations, I think it was, that I passed before I realized I couldn’t go further. Maybe if I continued now I’d have a shot at remembering my name.” He let out a low hum, and something akin to a sigh.</p><p>“What do you mean by that?” 10008 asked, though she had a vague idea where this could be going. She really should’ve considered it sooner.</p><p>“I’ve got no chance at it now, with this old body especially, but the rewards for individual stations are a way of providing a subject with memories. I suppose that it’s only to motivate further participation, but it’s a kind gesture nonetheless. Maybe one contained memories of my name. Perhaps one of yours will lead you to the same.” He looked off into the distance in thought, his whiskers curling and swaying as he gazed out the window opposite to him.</p><p>Surprised, 10008 reached into her pockets, grabbing her meager collection of mem cakes. The pockets of her pants weren’t really great, but she was glad to have them nonetheless. She had to carry things! Like these cakes! Having small pockets was better than no pockets, and she much preferred it over.... over... Over what exactly? Something scratched at the back of her mind, but nothing surfaced. Something had to have come before the metro, a time where she had worn something different and been someone different. She knew that there was someone she had to have been, before this, but that person could’ve been anyone. She tried to grasp the brief hold she had gotten, but it slipped away into nothing.</p><p>Holding the small shapes in outstretched palms, 10008 wasn’t really sure what to do with them? They were smooth to the touch, but not necessarily hard. Sort of firm, but able to retain shape even after pressure. Gummy, maybe? That seemed the best way to describe it. Picking one and turning it over in her hand, 10008 looked up at Iso Padre for further guidance. He apparently hadn’t been paying attention, continuing to stare out the distant window.</p><p>10008 carefully switched the cakes to one hand and with her newly freed one, reached out hesitantly and tapped him on one of his arms.</p><p>“Quite the collection, I see. You’ve been at it for a while, and your bounty agrees.” Iso padre looked over almost immediately, appraising her assortment. He seemed genuinely impressed! “Now, not all at once, but you want to eat them. One at a time is best, so that you don’t jumble your thoughts... It’s best to give yourself time to digest them, both literally and mentally. Sometimes, you might see or taste something that you won't find palatable. Oftentimes, you won’t. It’s your choice as to whether or not you’d like to continue.” He advised her gently. It was a bit to take in all at once, but 10008 could handle it!</p><p>Turning the cakes over in her hand, 10008 nodded in response as she tried to decide which to start with. Closing her eyes and picking one at random seemed like the quickest and fairest way, so she didn’t open her eyes until she had already popped one in her mouth.</p><p>It tasted... like a mouthful of dirt honestly.</p><p>Quite literally, after the initial bite the whole thing just crumbled and left the subject feeling like she had somehow decided to grab a fistful of dirt and shove it in her mouth. Struggling to not gag, she managed to force herself to choke it down. Fucking victory. Take THAT, Kamabo Co., 10008 BODIED your stupid little dirt cakes, and she’s feeling GREAT! Granted, she’s also not feeling like she’s remembering anything, but sometimes it’s about the little victories.</p><p>“Do I just... wait for it to kick in?” 10008 asked quietly, kicking her feet a little.</p><p>Iso Padre only nodded. 10008 turned, facing forward now and idly fiddled with her hands as she stared off into the middle distance. Man, this was good. Great, even! Free memories! Just... had to wait. She wondered what it would feel like, remembering something. Would it be like a sort of lightbulb moment? Or would it feel like suddenly, it was if she had always known something?</p><p>Apparently, it would feel a lot like her mouth suddenly going dry and her vision fading out, her skin burning as her mind was tossed into a raging sea where up and down made no difference, and direction was pointless. She was everything and she was nothing at once, and the sudden darkness danced and spun all around her, taunting her with memories of a faint summer’s breeze.</p><p>Summer.</p><p>Still air sweltering all around, with no escape even in dim barracks.</p><p>A sun that should be bright and warm, but was only a cold mimicry that could easily shattered by a rock or faulty wiring.</p><p>Excitement, thrumming in her hearts and in her beak and along her back and through her tentacles.</p><p>Roasting seagulls and picking at algae and playing cards in dim rooms surrounded by faces she couldn’t remember but never truly forgot.</p><p>Heavy clanking of metal on metal, weapon in hand, donned in uncomfortable gear that seemed to melt into her skin in the oppressive heat.</p><p>The release of finding a draft, a peek through to the real sky and fresh air on a hidden path she wasn’t supposed to be on.</p><p>The fizzle-pop of electricity through a heavy transport crate obscuring a new hope. Dancing patterns of light and dark burning inches away from her eyes.</p><p>Techno music filtering in from absolutely everywhere at all hours of day and night, inescapable as long as she was conscious.</p><p>Broken and harsh, but unmistakably home.</p><p> </p><p>When 10008 came to, her head felt cloudy. She was sitting, tensely locked up with hands balled into fists so tightly that when she opened them, little indents were left on her palms from her fingernails. All around her, the metro swam back into focus and every breath of cool air grounded her further. Iso padre still lingered nearby, though the rest of the car was much emptier than it had been before.</p><p>“Take your time, squire. It’s a lot to handle, especially when it’s new.”</p><p>10008 didn’t have the words to respond, only able to meagerly nod. Puzzle pieces fit into place in her mind, but only a few. She was far from the whole picture, and she would be for a while. Turning the memory over in her mind as she turned the cakes over in her hands, 10008 realized she had always been underground, even before the metro. That she had never seen the surface. She’d never seen the true sun.</p><p>It only made her determination sharpen to a deadly point. She <em>would</em> get out of here, and she <em>would</em> see the surface. She wouldn’t let <em>anyone</em> get in her way. She’d do whatever it took. Nobody would dare stop her.</p><p>“Thank you.” She looked up at Iso padre after a few seconds, finally able to gather a response. “For telling me about this. I… saw my home, I think. Parts of it. I don’t think it was much better than this place.”</p><p>Iso padre gave a low hum in response. “Home is what you make of it. I hope you find a way to make a new one someday. Let your dreams carry you to that point.” With that, he shifted a little in his seat and dug through his briefcase. 10008 had begun to ask a question, the words just about to leave her beak as the automatic doors of the car opened with a soft ‘ding’.</p><p>In hobbled the conductor, only noticeable when 10008 looked down instead of expecting to see someone at eye level. C.Q Cumber was…not impolite, but certainly strange in her opinion. She could respect dedication to one’s job, but the indistinct blue blob had often seemed a little too cheery to take his position within the metro as both conductor and test facilitator.</p><p>“We are approaching a testing station. I ask that all denizens remain seated within the car, and that all test subjects prepare to participate. ...Thank you.” He waved an arm-like pseudopod stretched out far above his body to ensure the attention of all passengers. After a beat of silence, he left the car once more. 10008 wondered why he didn’t just use the intercom, but there was time for that later.</p><p>Casting one last glance at Iso Padre, who appeared to be sewing together another of the soft toys he carried, 10008 shoved her remaining mem cakes back into her pockets. She mentally steeled herself for the task that was to come ahead- who knows what it would be this time! She had faith she could complete it, even now as she was shaky from her new memories. She always managed to in the past, and she had no choice but to continue to if she wanted to ever get to the surface, regardless of her physical or mental condition.</p><p>As the train glided to a smooth stop, 10008 got up and carefully headed to the exit. Automatic doors opened for her with a dingy chime, and she stepped out onto the enclosed station platform. The air out here was fresher than the recycled AC of the train, and so she took a minute to appreciate it, stretching as she waited for C.Q Cumber to catch up. It’s not like she had a choice, she couldn’t even start the test without him.</p><p>Surely enough, C.Q came along shortly. This time, unlike the times before, he was accompanied by a guest. A very, very tall guest. A guest with the most devastating bangs 10008 had ever seen.</p><p>Oh, shit.</p>
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